doing so. ‘I know that one, truly.’ And she clenched her free hand in a fist and shook it at herself. ‘All right, I give up.’
‘ “ You’re welcome.” That’s what it means. And it’s in the dialogue on page one of your workbook, I saw earlier, so I’d imagine you’ll need that for your test.’
She shook her head, gloom falling over her face and making her eyes darker. ‘I’m done for.’
Then she rolled her eyes, shook her head and left him to his thoughts.
Perhaps a stint in the country would be more enjoyable than he’d anticipated.
‘Attention, attention 261 and 81 responding to an MVA.’
‘Sorry, Mum, I have to go, they’re paging me.’ Phoebe hung up the phone after saying goodbye, relieved to find all was well on her parents’ small land holding on the outskirts of town. So far, at least. She raced back to the ambulance bay, shrugging the top of her jumpsuit on as she went.
‘What have we got?’ she asked Steve, deciding that was quicker than checking her own pager.
‘MVA on Jungfer Road. The car’s left the road and apparently there’s someone trapped inside.’
Phoebe jumped into the driver’s seat, waiting until Steve had buckled his seat belt before pulling out of the station, siren blaring. A fire engine was in front of them, leading the way. As they drove further out of town the visibility worsened and Phoebe had to concentrate in order to keep a safe distance between the ambulance and the fire engine while still keeping them within sight. The emergency broadcaster was giving them regular updates on the state of the fires, including where they were burning and in which locations people needed to be making decisions about staying or vacating their properties. Residents of Lobethal were being advised to evacuate now. Jungfer Road was one road that remained open and provided an exit route for those residents. As the ambulance got closer to the turn-off Phoebe drove more cautiously in order to avoid the steady stream of cars coming from the opposite direction. She wanted to put her foot down, she felt the need to get to the crash site as quickly as possible, but she couldn’t risk being involved in an accident of her own.
In front of her she saw the flashing left-turn indicator on the fire engine. She flicked her own indicator on, slowing further to take the corner. They drove on for a few minutes but as they approached one of the few bends in the road Phoebe saw a car pulled off to one side. A man climbed out of the car and waved them down. The fire engine pulled over and Phoebe brought the ambulance to a stop behind it.
She jogged past the fire engine, concentrating on getting to the witness to get any information he might have but still vaguely aware of the fire crew already at work, opening hatches and retrieving their equipment. Aware too that Max was among them.
She stopped beside the man’s car. ‘He’s down there.’ The elderly man’s voice was muffled by the hand towel he was holding over his nose and mouth to protect himself from the hot, ash-strewn air. He pointed with one hand over the embankment and Phoebe looked in the direction he had indicated. She could see an old yellow sedan at the bottom of the slope, its front crumpled around a huge tree.
‘I went down there, but I couldn’t get any response. Do you think he might be dead?’
They had no way of determining that from where they stood and Phoebe assumed it had been a rhetorical question.
‘Did you see the accident?’
‘No. My wife and I were travelling behind that car but I lost him as he went around the bend. He was driving pretty fast considering the conditions and I guess he lost sight of the road in the smoke. I thought I’d better wait to show you where the car was—it’s not easy to see.’
He was right. The thick smoke was obscuring everything, limiting visibility to less than a hundred metres and, coming from the direction they travelled, they could easily have missed the wrecked car.
‘Do you have any idea who’s in the car?’
‘No. Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘Can we get going now, do you think?’
Phoebe could hear a slight tremor in the old man’s voice. He’d done the right thing, what his conscience had demanded of him, and now understandably he was getting nervous about the approaching fire. Phoebe was nervous, too.
‘Of course. Thanks for your help.’
He hurried to his car, still clutching the towel to his face.
Phoebe looked around her. Cars continued to travel past but for once they didn’t have to work with a crowd of onlookers, the imminent danger from the bushfire was taking care of curious spectators. The fire crew and Steve were already at the vehicle, assessing the situation. Phoebe hurried down the slope, slipping a little on the dry undergrowth with its layer of fallen gum leaves.
The car was a total wreck. The driver’s side was wrapped around the tree, the bonnet virtually non-existent now as it was so badly compacted. The windscreen was shattered but access through there was limited as the tree blocked the opening. From what Phoebe could see, it appeared as though the steering-column might have crushed the driver’s chest, pinioning him to the wreck. She very much doubted he’d survived the accident.
She saw Max hand the spreaders to Mitch before coming to her side. Both of them silent, watching, waiting for the firies to get access to the vehicle.
Max spoke first, verbalising her thoughts. ‘I don’t reckon there’ll be much you can do for him even if he is alive.’
There were no signs of movement from within the car and no response to any of their calls. The doors were too badly damaged to be opened so Mitch smashed the back passenger window directly behind the driver, but even that caused no reaction.
As soon as the window was shattered Steve reached through the gap. Phoebe saw him put his hand on the driver’s shoulder, heard him ask a question, seeking a response. Nothing.
Steve moved his hand over the driver’s neck and Phoebe knew he was checking for a pulse. He cocked his head to one side in concentration.
‘I’ve got a pulse. Weak and irregular but he’s still alive. We need access now!’
Max picked up the crowbar Mitch had dropped at his feet and hurried around to the passenger side of the car to smash the unbroken windows while Mitch started cutting through the pillars supporting the roof. It would take Mitch a few minutes to get them access. Minutes this young man might not have.
Phoebe could hear Steve talking to the youth even though there was no response. She felt extraneous and looked for something useful to do. She skirted the tree, the tree that had done all the damage, wondering if there was any way she could get into the car. Was there enough room for her to squeeze through the broken windscreen into the front seat?
No way would she fit. To get through that hole she needed to be about five feet four and weigh eight stone. Not five feet ten and buxom.
Max had smashed the windows on the near side and Phoebe looked at the shattered glass scattered over the seats and littering the floor. A handbag lay on the floor, covered in broken glass, its bright colours incongruous in the wreckage. Phoebe’s gaze travelled over the handbag across to Steve. He’d stepped back from the driver, giving Mitch room to cut through the metalwork.
Phoebe’s subconscious drew her attention back to the handbag, suddenly working out what was so strange. She stepped back from the car, searching the ground around the crash site.
‘What is it?’ she heard Max’s question.
‘There must have been someone else in the car. A girl.’
‘What?’
‘There’s a handbag on the floor. Why would he have a handbag? We’ve got to find her.’
She moved to the front of the car. A flash of bright blue in the undergrowth to her left caught her eye. She wondered how she’d missed it as she’d first skirted